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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24781258">fools enough to love each other more than we can bear</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatoesanddreams/pseuds/potatoesanddreams'>potatoesanddreams</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Post-Nirnaeth Arnoediad, References to Maedhros's captivity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:08:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24781258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatoesanddreams/pseuds/potatoesanddreams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The braids lay on the table between them. They had been bound off neatly at both ends, to keep them from unraveling before they had been delivered. Maedhros stared fixedly at them. His eyes were dry.</p><p>-</p><p>Fingon was not killed but captured in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. Maedhros must decide whether to try to save him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fingon | Findekáno &amp; Maedhros | Maitimo, Maedhros | Maitimo &amp; Maglor | Makalaurë</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Tolkien Decameron Project</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>fools enough to love each other more than we can bear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Notes on names:</p><p>Nelyo - a nickname for Maedhros, from his father-name Nelyafinwë<br/>Kano - a nickname for Maglor, from his father-name Kanafinwë</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You know this is bait,” said Maglor.</p><p>Maedhros made a sound in his throat that might have been a laugh. “So was I.”</p><p>Maglor said nothing.</p><p>The braids lay on the table between them. They had been bound off neatly at both ends, to keep them from unraveling before they had been delivered. Maedhros stared fixedly at them. His eyes were dry.</p><p>The orc messenger had been terrified nearly out of its wits. “I’ve a message for your leader,” it had cried, holding up its flag of parlay like a shield, the instant it caught sight of the patrol that had found it in the woods. Then all in one breath it had said, “If I don’t come back he pays for it;” and it had gone on repeating this, Maedhros’s scouts told him, for the whole weary journey as they led it bound and blindfolded back to the warcamp. They had not been able to make head or tail of it, and neither had Maedhros – until, its hands still bound, the orc had jerked its chin at the satchel on its belt. “Look there.”</p><p>And inside had been the braids, blue-black shot through with gold.</p><p>It had been with great difficulty that Maedhros had restrained himself from tearing out the orc’s throat. Instead he had bitten his tongue until he tasted blood, and then he had said, slowly and evenly, “What does your master want from me?”</p><p>“Parlay,” the orc had replied, and had named a time and place.</p><p>It was still in the camp, under heavy guard. Maedhros did not know what answer to send by it.</p><p>“I’m needed here,” he said now, looking at the braids on the table.</p><p>“Now of all times,” said Maglor.</p><p>“Now of all times,” Maedhros echoed. He laid his hand on the table, close beside the braids. He didn’t touch them.</p><p>“I am <em>so sorry</em>,” said Maglor.</p><p>Maedhros did not answer.</p><p>“That you should have to suffer this from <em>both </em>sides of it…”</p><p>“I wonder who he’d rather have,” Maedhros murmured, “me or Fingon.”</p><p>“Maedhros!” said Maglor, aghast. “You’re not thinking of <em>going –"</em></p><p>Again the not-quite-laugh. “How foolish do you think I am? I know better than you do what happens to people who parlay with Morgoth. And then he has us both. No, I’m not going.” He bowed his head, taking his hand from the table and rubbing absentmindedly at his right wrist. “I’m not going.”</p><p>Maglor bit his lip. “It could be,” he said hesitantly. Maedhros raised his eyes. There was no expression in them. Maglor cleared his throat, a small sound. “It could be that they’re lying. It could be that he’s dead.”</p><p>It was the tone in which he said it – a sort of uncertain pity, the offering of something he hoped but was not certain would be a consolation. Maedhros shot to his feet so quickly he knocked over his chair. “He’s not dead<em>,</em> you stupid <em>child,</em>” he snarled, furiously enough that Maglor flinched. “Why in the <em>stinking </em>depths of Angband would they kill him when they could have him al—” His voice broke. “When –”</p><p>He stood frozen in place for a long moment, his fist clenched, his throat working as he tried and failed to speak. Then he sagged, as though some pillar within him had crumbled, and with a low, choked wail he fell to his knees on the packed earth.</p><p>Maglor went to him at once, kneeling beside him. He tried to take Maedhros’s hand, but Maedhros jerked away violently. “Don’t touch me!”</p><p>“All right,” said Maglor, “all right,” and he knelt very still there beside his brother, his hands clinging white-knuckled to each other in his lap, while Maedhros bowed his forehead to the ground and sobbed.</p><p>They remained there for a long time. At last, when Maglor’s muscles were growing stiff and the light from outside the tent was fading to the blue of evening, Maedhros raised himself laboriously from the ground. He was still weeping, but his tears were silent now, and he gave Maglor his hand and leaned against his shoulder. After a long moment he spoke.</p><p>“I’m going after him. I’ll agree to the parlay; it’ll be a distraction. They’ll expect me there, and I’ll circle past them, try to find a way –”</p><p><em>“What?” </em>Maglor twisted round to look at him, aghast. “Maedhros, you can’t! You won’t make it – you’ll be taken, you’ll –”</p><p>“I know I can’t. But I must.”</p><p>“But –”</p><p>“No.” Maedhros’s fingers tightened on his brother’s. “Look, you don’t understand. You think you do but you don’t. You’ve been <em>here </em>before, when it was me, but you’ve never been <em>there</em>. You don’t <em>know </em>– and I’m glad you don’t, for my sake as well as yours – because you were right, you made the right choice not to come after me, you know I believe that – but even so, if you –” His voice broke a little. He cleared his throat. “If you had <em>known </em>– and you hadn’t tried –” He lifted his head from Maglor’s shoulder, turning to look him in the face. “I wouldn't have been able to believe that you – that any of you – loved me at all – not ever again -”</p><p>Maglor made a stifled sound, half-gasp and half-sob, and looked away.</p><p>“That kept me Eldarin,” said Maedhros, after a moment. “That you loved me – that you didn’t know. But <em>I </em>know.” He lifted a shoulder. “And I know I’m needed, and I know it’s the wrong choice, and I know how angry he’d be with me if he knew I was even considering it – but I can’t do that to him – I <em>can’t.</em> So you’ll have to make it through without me.”</p><p>A long silence stretched between them. Then Maglor said, “I’ll go. You stay.”</p><p>“No!” Maedhros sprang to his feet, looking down at his brother in horror. “Don’t even think it!”</p><p>“Well, we can’t both go,” Maglor said, rising also; “that’d make Celegorm head of the House…"</p><p>“Who said anything about both of us going? I’m going, you’re staying here to lead the retreat –”</p><p>“<em>I’m not leaving you there again!</em>”</p><p>Maedhros had been about to mount another objection. His voice died in his throat. He reached hesitantly toward Maglor’s face; then his fingers curled and he dropped his hand back to his side. “You’re crying.”</p><p>Maglor scoffed bitterly. “You’re surprised? You say what you’ve just said to me, and then you tell me you’re going <em>back, </em>and –” He pressed his fist to his mouth. “It’s – <em>Eru</em>, Maedhros, this is how Morgoth does it, isn’t it? This is all it takes.”</p><p>Maedhros frowned. “What?”</p><p>“You’d give yourself to him on a platter for a chance at saving Fingon,” Maglor said. “And I – here I am offering to go in your place, because I left you before and I can’t, I <em>can’t </em>do it again! And it’s the same thing, always the same thing – it’s what Gwindor did when they butchered Gelmir, and it’s how we lost Alamdir from the Gap after her mother was taken, and it’s why Finrod is dead – and how much more is he going to take from us, how many more are we going to lose, because we’re fools enough to love each other more than any of us can bear?”</p><p>There was a long silence.</p><p>“If it were otherwise,” said Maedhros at last, “then I would be hanging from Thangorodrim now.”</p><p>Maglor looked down.</p><p>Maedhros sighed. “Look. There’s no hope, I know. But there never really has been – not for anyone on these shores. I could stay with our people, I could try to forget, try to imagine Fingon dead – lead the retreat and save what I can and pretend I still believe we can kill a Vala, pretend this won’t end in one choice for us all, thralldom before us and our backs to the Sea – or I could – well. If there’s no hope anyway, why shouldn’t I try?”</p><p>“If there’s no hope anyway,” Maglor said stubbornly, “then why shouldn’t I come with you?”</p><p>
  <em>“Maglor.”</em>
</p><p>The look with which his elder brother fixed him was so familiar from childhood that Maglor almost laughed. “Well, can you give me a reason? If we really can’t win –”</p><p>“We still have a duty to – end well. I know you can lead our people to such an ending. After Nargothrond – well, I don’t trust that Celegorm could.”</p><p>“No,” said Maglor. “But there’s still Caranthir – we could send our people to him –”</p><p>“Celegorm would be head of the House even so,” said Maedhros, “and Curufin and the twins would fall in line behind him. Caranthir would have to do so as well, or lose what’s left of the family. You’re needed here, Maglor. You must stay.”</p><p>“Oh, I must, must I?” Maglor cried. “Why are you allowed to make the reckless choice if I am not? Why are you allowed to run off and get yourself killed or worse while I must be prudent and stay behind? Why must I <em>always</em> be the one to stay behind? You do it, Maedhros. You lead them all to whatever safety you can find and try not to think about where <em>your </em>brother is –” He stopped short at the look on Maedhros’s face. “Oh,” he said softly. “That was cruel.”</p><p>“Yes,” said Maedhros. “But you’re right, too. Still, Maglor. Please. I can’t – I – <em>please.</em>”</p><p>Maglor wrapped his arms about himself and closed his eyes. Several times he opened his mouth to speak, and several times he shut it again without words. At last he looked up at his brother. “If some orc brings me your hair in a pouch,” he said, “I’m going after you. I don’t care what happens. I won’t leave you there again.”</p><p>“I can’t talk you out of that, can I?” Maedhros said wearily.</p><p>“I love you,” Maglor said, by way of answer.</p><p>Maedhros gave a deep sigh, then bent down to kiss his brother’s cheek. “It’s late. Go to sleep now. We’ll discuss it further in the morning.”</p><p>Maglor lingered at the tent’s entrance. “Good night, Nelyo.”</p><p>“Good night, Kano,” Maedhros said softly.</p><p>*             *             *</p><p>The next morning, Maglor found his brother’s tent deserted. Fingon’s braids were gone from the table. On the bedroll lay a note written in Maedhros’s careful hand:</p><p><em>If you change your mind and follow me</em>, <em>I will get myself captured on purpose.</em></p><p>
  <em>I love you.</em>
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